Free Los Nefilim Book 4 by T. Frohock Page B

isn’t.”
    â€œWe’ve been through much worse than this.”
    â€œYou always say that, and I’m always hard-­pressed to remember just when.”
    Miquel slipped his hand behind Diago’s head and kissed him hard and fast. Just as their lips parted, he whispered, “I love you.”
    Diago nodded, because for a moment, he didn’t have the breath for anything more. “I’ll be back for you.”
    â€œI know you will.” He offered the gun.
    Diago shook his head. “The knife will do. There’s another magazine.” He nodded at his left hip and Miquel liberated the silver tips from Diago’s pocket. They didn’t say good-­bye. They never did. It always seemed so final, and Miquel feared “good-­bye” might jinx them, so Diago said, “Watch for me.”
    â€œI will.”
    Without another word, he settled the golem firmly on his hip, and set off toward the lights. The golem leaned its head on Diago’s shoulder. The stink of the thing roiled his stomach.
    Where the tunnels branched, Diago used the narrow footbridge to cross. He didn’t want to risk stepping across and losing his footing. If he stumbled and shattered the golem, there wasn’t time to make another.
    Several minutes later, he reached a bend in the tunnel. He glanced back. Miquel was gone. Diago licked dry lips and started walking again.
    The passage seemed to go on forever. Overhead, the lights sputtered and left thick pools of darkness where the footing was treacherous. Diago lost all track of time—­other than to know it was passing for Miquel—­as he negotiated the narrow walkway and followed the lights. The pounding drums began to sound like the second hand of a clock, ticking away in the night.
    Eventually, the scent of smoke tickled his nostrils as he drew close to Moloch’s lair. The tunnel developed into a gradual incline and grew wider. The trough became shallow and soon disappeared, leaving a smooth floor beneath Diago’s feet. All around him, hues of orange and yellow supplemented the harsh electric light. The air grew warmer until it became as hot as a summer day. The stench of rotting corpses gagged him. Diago found it hard to pull a clean breath into his body.
    The golem squirmed in his arms. “I love you,” it mumbled with a hoarse voice.
    â€œOh, sweet Jesus.” Diago put his palm over the golem’s face, not so much to shield it from what was to come, but to prevent Moloch from seeing it clearly. Regardless of his intentions, the motion seemed to soothe the golem. It clutched the stuffed horse and shivered less. If Diago merely glanced at the creature, he almost believed that he held Rafael. Maybe it would fool Moloch after all.
    Diago held onto that hope as he rounded another bend. The passage opened into a cavernous room. Fire and electric light joined together to cast hellish shadows against the walls. Narrow stairs led up to a catwalk over seven metres off the ground. The catwalk spanned the greater part of the room and ended at an iron stage on the far side of the chamber.
    Mounted in the center of the stage was a bronze statue with a bull’s head and a man’s torso. Twin tanks took the place of lions at either arm of the figure’s throne. The wings of biplanes curved upward from the effigy’s back. A string of hollowed bombs formed a necklace, and machine-­gun turrets fashioned the crown. In the center of the statue’s chest was an open door. Flames burned inside the cavity. The arms were held out, palms up, ready to accept the offering.
    Through the metal latticework of the stairs and platform, Diago saw two ‘aulaqs near the statue. He recognized the shorter male and the one-­armed female from the train. The male’s flesh had been burned from his back and thighs, leaving puckered scar tissue instead of skin. He pushed a coal cart filled with the severed limbs of corpses, which